The ambassadors were released after another couple of hours, and Javis got back on the airship and left Arkaven. He ordered a bottle of spirits for the flight home and poured what he could of it into his flask. He sat back with the remainder in hand and heaved a sigh. Removing his glasses, he rested his face in his hand.
He didn't know why he expected things to go any differently today. Phar may have said he would look into the situation in the clans, but Javis knew he wouldn't. He never did. Maybe, if someone else had reported in place of Javis, Phar would have been more inclined to care. Javis couldn't blame him, though. The Minister had as much reason as the drād to hate humanity.
The only hope Javis had was that his contractor would get back to him. Even then, there was no guarantee the evidence would be what the Board wanted. Then again, knowing Javis' luck, his contractor probably took the money and ran.
He knocked back the rest of the bottle and ordered another.
It was late in the evening when he entered the small house tucked deep within the birch forest on the outskirts of Kerevel Tul. He sighed in relief. Home at last.
Javis fell into an armchair next to a wood stove and melted into its soft cushions. He closed his eyes. He never minded being away, but there was something comforting about having a place to return to when he wasn't in the clans.
Of course, it wasn't really his house. When he first moved in, he thought it had been abandoned, only to find it was already inhabited by a large family of brownies. They let him stay on the condition that he left one of the rooms upstairs for them and that he bought them food when he was around. He would need to go to the city to take care of that in the morning, needing to resupply food for himself as well since he wouldn't be returning to the clans for a month or two. But for now, he was going to let himself have a much-needed rest.
He didn't know what time during the night he brought himself up to bed, but when he awoke early the next morning, he fell right back into his routine. He stumbled blindly down the dark stairwell and made his way to the kitchen. He lit a dim lantern and heated a pot of tea, which he drank seated at his messy desk upstairs in his study. He was in no hurry, so he sketched in his leather journal until his tea grew cold.
He dressed, then stopped in front of the bathroom mirror to try to tame his curly, chin-length hair. He started at the sight of the deformed and sightless atrocity that was his right eye. Usually, he had it disguised with a glamor, but he must have accidentally let the magic fall while he slept.
He hated the sight of the old injury. It was a reminder of his mistakes from his youth. He cast a glamor again so that the eye matched the beautiful electric blue of his left one.
The sky began to lighten as he left for Kerevel Tul. He walked there, as he always did; the forest too dense for vehicles to get through. Javis didn't mind the long walk though. The forest put him at ease.
By the time he reached the city, street vendors were setting up for the day market. He took advantage of the hour and had all of his shopping done by the time the streets woke up. He stopped at a deli for breakfast.
Kerevel Tul was a peaceful city. It was technically not a part of Erothel, but neutral territory. This lent itself well to the attitudes of people around. For the most part, its inhabitants welcomed all who lived there, even nalingur to some extent. The culture was one of the main reasons why Javis moved back there. The other reason was for the Citadel.
One part observatory and one part meeting hall for the members of the High Council—Arai's collective leaders—the Citadel was a grand, stone building that stood watch over the city on a hill. Scholars, students of astronomy, philosophers, and others frequently gathered there to study and speak their theories. Its size was only rivaled by the Kerevel in the center of the city. Javis visited the Citadel every chance he could, as it was also home to Kerevel Tul's library.
He visited again after leaving the deli. He meandered up to the Citadel's entrance and stepped inside. The old building's cool, earthy air washed over him. His footsteps echoed over the polished floors as he made his way into the library's unnatural quiet.
The library was bigger than all of the rooms in Javis' home combined and doubled. Placing his groceries at a table near the front, Javis wandered into the crowded maze of shelves. He had a specific book in mind, but he took his time and stopped occasionally to take in the scent of old parchment while he browsed.
As he went deeper into the maze, a sweet sound drifting from over the shelves caught his ear. He surprisingly knew the song: a drenen folk melody about two lovers who were turned to stone after their failed efforts to be together. Javis didn't know anyone who knew it outside the clans.
He followed the tune to the back of the library and peeked around a shelf. A drenen woman balanced a stack of books and returned each one to its proper location, humming as she did so. A signature characteristic of the drād, her skin was gray, although hers was lighter than most. The scales dotting her high cheekbones sparkled silvery-blue in the light that shone through the skylights high above them. Her glossy, obsidian hair spilled in a waterfall down her back and in two braids down her front, framing her face.
Javis grinned. "Why, is that Talara I hear?"
Talara startled, her cheeks darkening in color. "Javis! I didn't know there was anyone else here," she whispered. Her voice pitched higher than Javis last remembered; her practice proved effective.
Javis approached and beamed up at her. Although several inches shorter than most drenen women, she still stood taller than Javis by a foot, and at a height just shy of six feet, he was by no means a short man. And this was discounting the pair of curved horns that added three more inches to the top of her head.
"You sound lovely, my dear. I almost didn't recognize you," he said.
Talara rubbed the back of her neck. "You don't mean that."
"Of course I do. Eslu'lir isel'ahn giwen ther," Javis said in the drenen language of Qo'yul. Your voice makes my heart sing.
Talara's face flushed an even darker gray. Javis took her hand to kiss it, but she slid it away and occupied it with the last book in her arms. Javis drew back his own to flounder for his pocket.
"You're always so poetic," she said, averting her amber eyes. They stood out against her black sclerae, and Javis could have stared at them for hours.
"What are you doing here?" he asked. "I thought you were back in Talnoq-Vyn."
"I remembered you were coming back this week, so I came to visit. But I didn't think I would see you so soon," Talara said. She turned to put away her last book. "How were the mountains?"
"Beautiful as always. Your mother sends her well-wishes."
Talara's shoulders drooped. "I am sure she does. I'm sure she wants me to go back, too. I won't."
Javis shifted his weight uncomfortably. It seemed Talara's relationship with her mother remained rocky. "I would never ask you to," Javis said, ". . .but I hope you don't mind if I do ask you to lunch this afternoon? We could walk around the city after."
"I have had enough of exploring the city for one trip, and knowing you, you will try to buy me another piece of jewelry I don't need," Talara said. Despite her words, humor played in her voice.
Javis chuckled half-heartedly. It was true, he did still try to buy her gifts whenever they met, but he didn't see anything wrong with that.
"Can I not do things to show you how much I care?" he asked.
Talara gave him a warm smile. She stepped closer and straightened out the folds of his jacket.
"We both know that's not why you do it. If you truly care, start by helping yourself," she said.
Javis looked into her eyes. They only held kindness. "How do you know I'm not?"
"Because I know you. You are stubborn and prideful," Talara said, "and neither of us can change so much in such a short time."
At Javis' raised brow she grinned, adding, "Well, maybe one of us can. I am serious, though. Let go of the past and forgive yourself. You will be a better and happier person for it." She pulled away from Javis, and he longed to follow, but he remained where he was.
"I am trying, Ara. I really am," he said.
But what Talara was asking was much easier said than done. He rubbed his right eye. He had no right to forgive himself, and the only one who could have had been dead for sixteen years.
"Now about that lunch? I just bought groceries, I could fix you something at home," he suggested, ready to move on.
"That would be lovely," Talara agreed.
He held out his arm for her, and she moved to take it when he heard a soft chiming in his pocket. He rummaged for his aspectacaster and held it up. He gasped.
Talara creased her brow. "Who is it?"
Javis held up a hand. He let out a breath of relief. Finally. He looked around and pressed a finger to his lips before answering the chiming device.
Normally, a projection of one's face would appear above the screen, but his contractor liked his anonymity, and Javis liked his own.
He whispered, "There you are. I was beginning to think I would never hear from you again. Do you have it?"
A gruff voice replied, "I have it. Do you have the rest of the money?"
"Of course I do. We made a deal." Javis glanced at Talara. She gave him an inquiring look. Later, he mouthed.
"Good. Where do you want to meet?" the voice asked.
Javis looked around again and lowered his voice further. "Kerevel Tul. There's a pub with a rooster painted on the side in the Lower District. We'll meet there."
The voice grunted in reply.
"You know, this would have been much more beneficial had you contacted me when we agreed," Javis couldn't help but add.
The voice grumbled, "Oh fuck off. I would have if I was able. You're lucky I even have anything for you."
Javis frowned. "What happened?"
"He heard me trying to leave, sent his guard dog after me," the voice said. "And he has a message for you."